Friday, November 02, 2012

On the summit of Howth Head this afternoon I read the last
page of Ulysses which is in my pocket
(thanks to these new phones). It ends with the Yes of Molly taking Bloom’s hand
in marriage. When I took Una’s hand I rejoiced in gaining four sisters. I’m
down to three now and just (an hour ago) took my leave of another one – for
ever.

The sea from Ben of Howth was crystalline green, a perfect
palette with the blue-grey hills beyond and the grey-tinged-with-purple rain
clouds. The rain had crept up behind me from the city like a dark desert storm as
I drove round and up the Head but by the time I parked up it had passed over
and left a fresh sheen along the track. I speculated where Molly and Bloom may
have left the main path and found their private space among the rhododendrons –
I came up with a convincing hypothesis overlooking the golf course. The
winbushes were still tinged with a hanging-on-in-there yellow and the odd other
bloom punctuated the classic Irish countryside.

“He likes the country life” she tells her two friends, both
Dubs from the hospital where she worked. I left the hill with my heart soaring
like the seagulls down on Howth pier, which come in for landing like a Harrier,
perfect control in the strong sea breeze as they land on the concrete edge. When
I got to the end of the pier I came across the plaque commemorating the landing
of The Asgard. Strange to have received a Tweet recently from Erskine Childers
(the great-grandson). His great-grandfather’s exploits at Howth Head fused with
The Riddle of the Sands which struck
a Romantic chord with me is another facet of loving this old country I married
into.

Talking to her friends she returns to her old self – Feisty
is the word that springs to mind, Spirited, her own self. As I look at her
profile there’s something so distinctive and endearing in that lower lip, and
heart-breaking. If I hadn’t ended up with Una, Bernadette always struck me as
the next best thing, closest in looks, also beautiful red hair, though hers
darkened over time. She’s got the same dark masculine eyebrows, even more so,
which capture her strength and determination.

She’s over in Raheny now, a couple of miles down the road.
I’m in her own manor, Clontarf. A couple of the longest miles ever. She’s been
very patient with me over the years, way more than I’ve been. I liked just
being around her. She’s a force of Yes.

The penultimate night of Athletics in the London 2012 Olympic Stadium including: * Jason Smyth winning his second Gold for Ireland in the 200m * Oskar Pistorius running an elegant 400m heat * A Canadian visually impaired 5000m runner waving heart-warmingly from the podium [he just walked past the train queue just now as I'm writing and got a big cheer] * The Angolan, French and Brazilian pairs of visually impaired and sighted runners jumping and dancing on the podium together

A spontaneous gathering of singalong Parklife on the way out

Policemen doing the lightening bolt, soldiers being congratulated and Gamesmakers joshing through loudspeakers on the way out to round off the friendliest and best Olympic and Paralympic Games of all time

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Laughing with D about EArs (outside the Hard Rock Cafe, Palma - the first time I've been in one since I was his age, in London, where it was founded in 1971 - our neck of the woods represented by Dave Davies guitar)

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn't really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That's because they were able to connect experiences they've had and synthesize new things.

DJing my way along the Limasol-Paphos highway past the Rock of Aphrodite (her birthplace) at sunset to the likes of She's Not There (Santana) as well as Jimi Hendrix, Massive Attack, The Cure and Joy Division (Mykonos-style sundowner vibes)

Jogging down to the headland just after sunset to Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed